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52
Indigo
“They’ve just left,” I say to Hunter, the assistant district attorney who asked me to call him once the police had finally arrived, over two hours after we called them.
“What did they say?”
“Not much. Just took some pictures, looked at that text message he sent me. Told me to get some cameras installed. And basically said it’s petty vandalism and to not expect much by the way of follow-up.”
“Yeah, I figured,” he sighs. “We’ve had two murders today, Indie. Over a hundred assaults, a few shootings, dozens of break-ins. The police are—”
“Overworked. I get it,” I interrupt. “But… the message?”
Welcome back, wildflower…
“You know the answer, unfortunately. There’s no budget to look into something like that. No one would ever sign off on it. Even if we could trace the number, that message isn’t incriminating despite the timing. I mean, if a judge saw that, it’d be the weakest of circumstantial evidence.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Who knows that nickname of yours?”
“Um, pretty much everyone close to me. My extended family. Marilla, Orpha, Harry. Micah. Kohl. Greyson. All my friends.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down much.”
“No.”
“Can you get a new door arranged?”
“It’s funny, Greyson had arranged for a new sturdier one to arrive tomorrow.”
“Good timing,” he muses. “And the one you have now?”
“The wood didn’t actually split, just left a crack in it. We’ve hammered some planks over it until the door gets replaced.”
“Well, you might want to spend the night elsewhere just to be safe.”
Rami brings a cup to her lips, watching me from the purple beanbag chair near the bed against which I’m leaning.
“Did you, um, tell Greyson?”
“He told you we’re seeing each other again?” I respond.
“Yes. He did mention it.”
“No. He doesn’t know, and… I’m not sure I’m gonna tell him.”
“Why?”
“Because… I don’t want our relationship to be about fixing this problem. I don’t want to be a problem case. I don’t want to have our every conversation polluted by this. I—”
“I get it, Indie. This isn’t my first time dealing with these situations. A lot of people are afraid that if they open up, it will consume their whole lives.”
“Yep,” I sigh, dread pervading me as I wonder what it will take to be free, and whether Micah would risk more jail time for the thrill of scaring me.
Even by his unhinged standards, that’s a big risk to take.
I shake off the eerie feeling, wondering what it is that feels different about this.
